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\begin{center}
\textbf{An Elegy on the Death of Kenneth Patchen}
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\begin{verse}
  	

Will5 was here!!! And so was Rachel\\
A poet is born\\
A poet dies\\
And all that lies between\\
is us\\
and the world

And the world lies about it\\
making as if it had got his message\\
even though it is poetry\\
but most of the world wishing\\
it could just forget about him\\
and his awful strange prophecies

Along with all the other strange things\\
he said about the world\\
which were all too true\\
and which made them fear him\\
more than they loved him\\
though he spoke much of love

Along with all the alarms he sounded\\
which turned out to be false\\
if only for the moment\\
all of which made them fear his tongue\\
more than they loved him\\
Though he spoke much of love\\
and never lived by `silence exile \& cunning'\\
and was a loud conscientious objector to\\
the deaths we daily give each other\\
though we speak much of love

And when such a one dies\\
even the agents of Death should take note\\
and shake the shit from their wings\\
in Air Force One\\
But they do not\\
And the shit still flies\\
And the poet now is disconnected\\
and won't call back\\
though he spoke much of love

And still we hear him say\\
`Do I not deal with angels\\
when her lips I touch'\\
And still we hear him say\\
`O my darling troubles heaven\\
with her loveliness'\\
And still we hear him say\\
`As we are so wonderfully done with each other\\
We can walk into our separate sleep'\\
On floors of music where the milkwhite cloak\\
of childhood lies

And still we hear him saying\\
`Therefore the constant powers do not lessen\\
Nor is the property of the spirit scattered\\
on the cold hills of these events'\\
And still we hear him asking\\
`Do the dead know what time it is?'

He is gone under\\
He is scattered\\
undersea\\
and knows what time\\
but won't be back to tell it\\
He would be too proud to call back anyway\\
And too full of strange laughter\\
to speak to us anymore anyway

And the weight of human experience\\
lies upon the world\\
like the chains of the 'sea\\
in which he sings\\
And he swings in the tides of the sea\\
And his ashes are washed\\
in the ides of the sea\\
And `an astonished eye looks out of the air'\\
to see the poet singing there

And dusk falls down a coast somewhere

where a white horse without a rider
turns its head\\
to the sea

\end{verse}

\noindent Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

\vspace{.1in}

{\footnotesize
  \noindent \url{http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-elegy-on-the-death-of-kenneth-patchen/}\\
  Accessed 16 Feb 09 by Adam M. Goldstein. }

\newpage

\begin{center}
\textbf{elegy for a loss to a friend}  
\end{center}

\begin{verse}
  	
She was five foot six with ink black hair cut just below her ears.\\
She was remembered by her side long glances or her devious stares.\\
Not once will you see a smile played across her face,\\
but a menacing scowl that makes you look away.\\
Day by day I would walk by, not bothering a hello not even a hi.\\
We were known as friends, acquaintances, nothing more,\\
until that one day our friendship tore.\\
She became a nuisence, needy, a fake.\\
She lied, cheated, and stole right to my face.\\
I drifted away from her not wanting to be friends.\\
She screamed, cried, and threatened.\\
But it meant nothing at all to me.\\
Day after day she would become more of a blur,\\
a thing in my past a thing that only occurred.\\
Now she's alone, no one to be with.\\
She gets stares, whispers, looks and more,\\
she is known as the freak because\\
of that one little scene,\\
but all was lost for she meant nothing more.\\

\end{verse}

\noindent lostlittlegrl 124 

\vspace{.1in}

{\footnotesize 
\noindent \url{http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elegy-for-a-loss-to-a-friend/}\\
Accessed 16 Feb 09 by Adam M. Goldstein. 
}

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\begin{center}
\textbf{Elegy For Jane}
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\begin{verse}
  	
(My student, thrown by a horse)

I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;\\
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;\\
And how, once started into talk, the light syllables leaped for her.\\
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,\\
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,\\
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.\\
The shade sang with her;\\
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,\\
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,\\
Even a father could not find her:\\
Scraping her cheek against straw,\\
Stirring the clearest water.\\
My sparrow, you are not here,\\
Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.\\
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,\\
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.

If only I could nudge you from this sleep,\\
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.\\
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:\\
I, with no rights in this matter,\\
Neither father nor lover.

\end{verse}

\noindent Theodore Roethke 

\vspace{.1in}

{\footnotesize 
  \noindent \url{http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elegy-for-jane/}\\
  Accessed 16 Feb 09 by Adam M. Goldstein. }

\end{document}
